


we'll fast forward to a few years later

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Series: Four-Color Love (A Comic Book Romance) [24]
Category: The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: Curtain Fic, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>thetasigma asked for a futurefic ten years or so into the future after 'your hands (together)' when everyone's settled down. Being part of this series it does focus on Stuart and Raj, but there are glimpses at what's happening with the others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we'll fast forward to a few years later

**Author's Note:**

> The Big Bang Theory characters are not mine and I am making no money off this work of fan fiction. Many thanks to faerywhimsy for her fabulous beta!
> 
> Note (20/01/2014): Depending on what happens in the rest of the series, the continuity of this fic is subject to change. This is because although it's chronologically last in the series, I wrote the whole thing out of order, and it's at this time still a work in progress. Also because when I do get around to writing the wedding fic (and I make no promises as to when that will be), there's at least a 60% chance of Sheldon/Penny happening (I haven't forgotten my roots).
> 
> * * *

They are in the comic book store, and by _they_ Raj’s brain seems to mean the whole group, even though the girls usually avoid the place, always reassuring him that they don’t mean any offence to Stuart, as if Stuart would take it personally.

(Okay, so. There _is_ , admittedly, a time when he _would_ have. But that time is not now, not any more.)

Raj is older. They all are. It’s hard to tell how much older, because he’s mostly aware of the others as a presence at his back–

Howard and Bernadette are still holding hands; Amy and Leonard are poring over a novelization of _The Avengers 7_ ; and Penny and Sheldon brush up against each other too often for it to be coincidence–

and Stuart has always looked a little world-weary. There are fine silver hairs woven through his brown curls, and Raj reaches up to touch one, curious.

Stuart laughs. Raj recognizes it for the self-deprecating sound that it is because he – because they – because he’s spent so long with Stuart that he knows _every_ sound, every tone of voice, every negative signal.

(But, oh, he also knows the sighs and gasps of pleasure and desire, and the soft smile that graces Stuart’s face at the end of every day when they kiss goodnight, and he knows that the bright-eyed days come more often now than the hunched-shoulder ones.)

“What have I told you about touching the merchandise at work?”

Raj raises an eyebrow. “Dude, I was nowhere near your merchandise.”

Stuart smiles, and it’s such a pretty smile that Raj can’t help but lean across the counter to kiss him.

On one level in his mind they have only just started dating and this behaviour is strictly verboten. On another, they have been together and together and _together_ , and he feels the circle around his left ring finger as a reminder.

On this dream-level, this unreal now, Stuart’s mouth is soft under his, and his lips part readily. Raj tastes the cinnamon gum that Stuart sometimes chews when he’s bored at work, and the zing of graphite; his – _boyfriend lover fiancé husband_ – has been licking his pencils again.

Then Stuart’s licking at his lower lip, requesting entrance, and Raj forgets all about the pencils.

They can’t hold each other close with the counter in the way, but their mouths make do.

Gravity eventually pulls Stuart back off his tiptoes and they smile at each other like they’re back at day one. They’re not, though; Raj rubs the ring on his finger and catches a glimpse of the store calendar out of the corner of his eye, but all he can see is _202_ because there’s a Batman figurine in the way.

* * *

Stuart has been awake for a good ten minutes now because Raj keeps mumbling in his sleep – it’s too damn hot to sleep, how is he even asleep? – and also Cinnamon and Saffron – who spent two months as Ginger before he coaxed her into coming home and Raj said that an orange tabby in _his_ home wasn’t going to be either Ginger or Marmalade and opened the spice cupboard and said, “Choose” – have decided that right now would be an ideal time to fight over foot-of-the-bed real estate, whereas usually the dog sleeps on Raj’s feet and the cat on Stuart’s.

“Raj.”

“Mmmm?”

“Are you awake? Because if you’re awake, I have to tell you, calling Batman stupid is probably not a good idea.”

Raj’s eyes come all the way open in the dim light of their bedroom. The new place – well, “new”, they’ve lived here going on four years now, since Raj’s promotion – has the streetlights right outside the window, but neither of them mind the ambient light. It suits them in the small hours, like this.

“Stuart?”

“Well, yes – who were you expecting?”

Raj’s face splits in a wide grin. “We _are_ still together.”

“What _were_ you dreaming?” Stuart reaches out and pulls Raj close. Once upon a time he wasn’t very good at making such overt gestures, but now they come so naturally, so smoothly.

“What year is it?”

“Twenty-twenty-four. You’re still too young for Alzheimer’s.”

Raj’s right hand finds Stuart’s left under the covers, thumb going straight to his wedding ring and rubbing. “And you’re still putting up with me?”

“Hey, don’t _you_ start; I’m the one with the self-deprecation jar, remember?”

“I was dreaming that we were in the comic book store,” Raj says, “and we were older, and we were still together.”

“How much older?”

“That’s the weird part... I couldn’t tell. First I thought we were a _lot_ older but if it’s 2024 _now_ it couldn’t have been more than five years.” Raj nuzzles Stuart’s ear. “You were going gray.”

Stuart, who has been dyeing his hair for seven years now, prudently keeps his mouth shut.

“Also I think Penny and Sheldon had hooked up.”

“Penny and _Sheldon_? Now we _know_ you were dreaming.”

“They were being all touchy-feely.” Raj demonstrates, running his fingertips along Stuart’s forearm. “Also Amy and Leonard were kinda close.”

“Now _that’s_ a little more plausible.”

“You think?”

“Yeah... I mean, even when they danced at our wedding they looked like they were sharing some secret special moment. Didn’t you see how they looked at each other?”

“Stuart, it was the _Chicken Dance_. Who has ‘moments’ to the Chicken Dance?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Mmmm.” Raj drapes his leg over Stuart’s; they haven’t done three AM sex in a while, but he can feel the heat and press of Raj’s arousal and can feel himself getting hard in response. “Like our love story. I didn’t think I’d be riding off into the sunset with a guy.”

“I didn’t think I’d be riding off into the sunset with _anyone_.”

“Self-deprecation jar.”

“Mmmm... in the morning.” Stuart brushes his lips against Raj’s. “I don’t feel like getting out of bed right this second.”

“Me either.” Raj’s mouth claims his, then, and puts a halt to speech. Some nights it’s slow and almost lazy between them, the ease of familiarity more important than getting overly physically complicated.

This would not appear to be one of those nights, judging by the way Raj’s hands latch on to his ass and pull him to lie atop Raj, settling between his thighs. This would be one of those nights where they burn against each other, swallowing back the sounds that they want to make for the sake of—

“Ow!” Stuart attempts to rub the side of his neck. “Careful.”

“Quiet.”

“You _bit_ me.”

“Sorry. Too soon?”

“Too _hard_.”

Raj rolls his hips up against Stuart’s and Stuart can’t stop an appreciative moan. “That’s not what you usually say.”

“All right, all right, keep it down.”

“Way too late for that, dude.”

“Your _voice_ ,” Stuart says, exasperated; under him Raj is giggling like one of the munchkins, which is exactly who he doesn’t want waking up and coming in. The animals have long since fled for quieter pastures, Cinnamon to the seat of the armchair by the window and Saffron to its back, perching like the feline goddess she believes herself to be.

There’s a hinge squeak from down the hallway and both of them freeze. Little footsteps patter to the bathroom and back. Only when the sound of the flush has died away and nobody has made a guest appearance at their bedroom door can Stuart relax.

They move against each other, throwing the single summerweight sheet off before very long. Raj’s skin is flecked with sweat; Stuart licks his neck and Raj whimpers.

“Now, please, now...”

“You’re not ready.”

“Don’t care.”

“Oh, yes you would.”

Raj doesn’t have any clothing to discard and Stuart’s boxers are gone in a matter of seconds. As soon as he pushes two lubed fingers inside Raj, Raj sighs and closes his eyes, looking blissed out already.

“Hope we _are_ still doing this in five years’ time,” he gasps out between twists of Stuart’s fingers.

“Me too,” Stuart says, before applying his mouth to a use other than talking, of which Raj is rather appreciative.

Raj holds out for three minutes and three fingers before catching one of Stuart’s curls and tugging it lightly, urging him up the bed. Stuart goes where he’s told but takes back control once he gets there, pressing the head of his cock firmly against Raj’s entrance but not pushing in until Raj goes from a nigh-incoherent stream of pleases to, “Stuart, _now_ , or we’re never doing this again.”

“What makes you think you’re in charge here?” Stuart asks, but he works himself into Raj anyway, pushing through the tightness into _heat_ and softness closing around him, and Raj’s attempt at a stern expression dissolves back into open-mouthed desire.

When he catches Raj’s hands and pins them together above his head on the pillows, the streetlight glints off the gold on Raj’s left hand, and Stuart tries to make his strokes as long and slow and teasing as he can, remembering their wedding night, remembering how abstaining for a month had seemed stupid until they got to the hotel and Raj finally came apart underneath him.

“Remember...”

“...the honeymoon.” Raj’s breathing is uneven, panting. “Like that. Oh gods. Stuart. _Stuart_.”

Stuart lets Raj’s hands go but Raj leaves them crossed at the wrists on the pillow like a sacrificial offering on an altar, except that to the best of Stuart’s knowledge sacrificial offerings don’t usually beg quite so much – at least not for what Raj is begging for.

He has no problem with acquiescing to Raj’s requests for _harder_ and _more, please_ , even with one ear cocked toward the door in case there’s a knock there.

At the end Raj grabs his ass and pulls him deep-deep-deep and Stuart feels Raj tighten around him, Raj coming hot against his stomach, and it pulls his own climax out of him as inevitably as the tide following the moon. He has the presence of mind to cover Raj’s mouth with his own to muffle his own name on Raj’s lips, but beyond that he’s lost in sensation, in heat and in Raj’s fingers digging into his skin.

They have just time to clean up before Saffron demands to be let out of the bedroom, and then Cinnamon decides to chase her, and the two animals thundering through the apartment leads to the inevitable; when Stuart and Raj finally settle back into bed it’s with company in the form of a certain young duo, both of whom are almost too old to be crawling into bed with their dads, but show no sign of stopping. Raj has nine-year-old Aviva on his side; seven-year-old Linnie is sharing Stuart’s pillow.

“I had a dream,” Linnie whispers dramatically, and also rather louder than the average whisper.

“What did you dream?” Stuart puts his arm around her waist and she tucks her head in against his, her breath smelling of the chocolate that she sometimes sneaks after brushing her teeth.

“We were at your work and a bunch of your friends were there.”

“Then what happened?” Raj asks from behind the barricade of daughters.

“She yelled at Batman,” Aviva offers. “It woke me up.”

“You were _snoring_ , that’s what woke you up.”

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

“Settle down, munchkins,” Raj says. “It’s too early in the morning to fight.”

“I do not snore,” Aviva grumbles.

“That’s okay, your Dad does,” Stuart says. “He can keep us all awake.”

“I do not!”

“Do _too_ ,” Stuart, Aviva, and Linnie all chorus.

Raj lets out a defeated sigh. “How about we stop the accusations, get some sleep, and I’ll make waffles for breakfast?”

“With Hershey’s?” Linnie asks.

“Your teeth are gonna fall out,” her sister informs her.

“Are not!”

“Are too, actually,” Linnie admits. “Ish un’s een obby or a eek.”

“Stop poking it with your tongue and go to sleep, Lindsey,” Stuart says, stroking her hair back from her forehead. If she’s too wound up it doesn’t work, but she falls silent this time and before long her breathing evens out into the rhythm of sleep. The other side of the bed has snoring happening but Stuart’s not quite sure if it’s Raj being quiet or Aviva being loud.

He used to hate insomnia; used to fear its effect on his productivity, until he stopped caring and just lay awake, staring into the darkness, feeling it creep up on him, into him.

This time, though, he closes his eyes, draws in a deep breath of the warm night air that his family is also inhaling and exhaling, and when sleep finally consents to take him, he’s smiling.


End file.
